


hunter's stag

by beephil



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Author is a Toby Smith | Tubbo Apologist, Deer Tubbo, Fluff, Gen, Happy Toby Smith | Tubbo, Hunter TommyInnit, Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hybrid Toby Smith | Tubbo, Mentioned Wilbur Soot, Parental Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Twins Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade are Siblings, cottagecore in disguise, kinda mystical, tommy wants to hate tubbo but its hard, tubbos kind a god
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:22:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29255889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beephil/pseuds/beephil
Summary: Tommy is a hunter, born and raised. He only has one mission in life, kill the stag with three antlers. Restore peace. Achieve revenge. He doesn't know what he'll do when the stag choses him to be his companion, and what he'll do with the wide eyed boy, his only hope for getting back home.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	hunter's stag

**Author's Note:**

> this is inspired by @tpbbos (twt) deer!tubbo hc, it's living in my mind rent free so i had to do something with it obviously.  
> also inspired by "pearl diver" by mitski
> 
> @TWTBEES is my twt :D

_ “Treasure hunter, you are dead _

_ The light of the world is fading _

_ You cannot see the other end _

_ Your body's lost all feeling” _

The wind whipped at Tommy’s face, numbing his nose and making his eyes water. Snow continued to fall even after the sun had set, making it even colder. Deadlier. Tommy’s boots crunched under the snow, each step dropping him down about a foot, snow filling his socks. His core was quivering, every limb frozen. He could barely hold onto the dim lamp anymore. 

Tommy kept silently swearing, mostly to keep himself from losing his focus. He needed to find a cabin to stay.  _ There must be one around here.  _ After the accident, he’d been searching in the wilderness, desperate to find someone. He was coming up on twenty-four hours alone. Tommy felt himself edging closer to death each minute. Each step was agony, his body slowing down, losing the will to fight.

The squirrels he’d killed earlier didn’t help as he was unable to make a fire. He’d tried for hours, rubbing wood together, but the damp forest made it impossible. 

Tommy sat down in the snow, the visibility decreasing every minute. He hugged his gun against his coat, the familiarity giving him comfort. It kept his mind straight, his mission clear. He was a hunter, a fighter. Since his family wasn’t here with him anymore, he was the one who needed to find the stag, the one with three antlers. It was his family's life goal, his country's life goal, taking back what was rightfully theirs. 

Tommy grabbed an old piece of jerky from his coat, one he’s been saving, his last piece of food. He took two bites and tucked it back into his pocket. He kept on walking. The ice bit him, gnawing at his core. A powerful gust of wind blew out the dim flame. Tommy exclaimed, “Fuck!” He threw the empty lantern aside. The world was suddenly so much darker then he could imagine. Imaginary monsters were around every corner, ready to strike. 

Tommy kept walking until he couldn’t anymore. He dropped to his knees, embracing the snow. He wasn’t cold anymore, ice turned into fire as his body collapsed. Tommy’s breath slowed as he mulled through his pocket, pulling out the shotgun. The last bullet shot into the air.  _ Couldn’t do much harm. _ His arm fell as he closed his eyes, welcoming the snow he’d die in.

\---

Tommy’s eyes slightly opened as someone beckoned him, “Can I help you?” The voice was rich and sweet. It belonged to a boy with antlers, part deer. He stood in the snow, his four legs dug deep into the bank. He was holding a glowing leash that was wrapped around the neck of a stag, a stag with three antlers. This woke Tommy out of his near-death slumber. He was marvelous, his fur illuminating the dark blizzard night. Tommy wished he was strong enough. Strong enough to pull out his gun. Shoot the boy. Shoot the stag, bring his head back home. Restore peace. Achieve revenge. But he was dying. He was laying in the snow, and he was about to lose everything. He was helpless.

He moaned, “Yes. I’m dying.” 

The boy walked over, still holding the leash, and picked up Tommy. He stuck him on the back of the stag, his body completely limp. As they started walking through the wilderness, Tommy reached up to touch the third antler of the stag, protruding from the base of the left antler.  _ You will be mine. _

\----

Tommy awoke on what felt like a bed of flowers. The soft cloth surrounded him in what felt like a hug. He didn’t notice the pain until he tried to sit up. Despite most of his body being bandaged, an excruciating shock went through him. He bit his tongue, not wanting to cry out. His hands were tightly bound together, Tommy wanted to unwrap them and assess the damage. 

He started teething the bandages when a man with shaggy blond hair opened the door, holding a box of medical supplies, “Oh, you’re awake.” He sat down on a stool next to Tommy’s bed, setting the tool kit down as he started to unpack it.

Tommy attempted at rubbing the sleepiness out of his eyes, “Who are you?”

He sighed, “I see we’re getting right down to business, eh? I’m Phil. And who are you?”

“I’m Tommy.”

“Ok. So, where are you from, Tommy?” He inquired.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Phil violently signed and started putting bandages back into the box, “I guess we’re done here.”

“Wait! No. I’m sorry.” He tried to grab at Phil’s shirt, but his bandages made it very difficult.

Phil silently came back, slowly unwrapping the bandages. His fingers were still dark purple, and he noticed he lost the tip of his left pinky. Disgust rolled through him like a wave. 

“I’m sorry, we couldn’t save everything.” Phil sounded melancholy, like he’d done this before.

Tommy swallowed, “How bad is it?”

“Not terrible, I’ve seen way worse.”

“Really?” Tommy snapped himself out of his self-pity.

“Oh, yeah. Most don’t survive.”

Tommy spent most of his day in the infirmary, Phil once in a while coming in to check in on him. He brought food that Tommy scarfed down. He mostly sat staring at the wall, wondering where his gun and knives went. The knives were a gift from his mother, he couldn’t lose them, they were the only thing he would remember her by. The next time Phil came in he asked, “Where did you put my stuff?”

“Come here, I’ll show you.” He pulled him up from his bed and handed him a stick to balance on.

Tommy refused, “I don’t need that.”

“Oh, I think you will.” 

As soon as Tommy stood up, he stumbled, grabbing onto Phil for balance. He huffed and stole the stick from Phil. 

Phil led Tommy through the cottage, candles lining each windowsill. The place was quaint, soft light hitting every flower pot. The wooden floor looked soft and polished, creaking slightly at every step. The entire place was warm, thawing his frozen fingers. Phil led him through a spruce door, revealing a room so marvelous it was almost debilitating. The floor was covered with moss and vines crept up the walls. Flowers grew tall as bees flew around them. Sitting on the bed of moss was the boy, his deer legs tucked under him. He sat next to the stag, carefully petting his white fur. The stag seemed to glow pure radiance and warmth. The boy beckoned him to sit by them. Tommy looked at Phil, who nodded.

He sat right next to the two, feeling awkward.

“How are you feeling today?” The boy inquired.

“I’m alright, I guess. Who even are you? Where am I?”

His fuzzy deer ears fluttered, “I’m sorry for not explaining earlier. My name’s Tubbo. I’m the guardian for Mars. Welcome to my cottage.”

“Why did you save me?” Tommy reached up to touch the stag, his heart beating. If he had his gun he could end it right here, right now.

Tubbo met him with vibrant green eyes, “Well, Mars chose you. He doesn’t often choose a companion, consider yourself lucky. He practically saved your life.”

“How often do you find freezing children in the woods?” Tommy felt honored and pissed simultaneously, he wanted to kill the beast, not be his friend.

He giggled, “Oh, you’d be surprised. The amount of rebel hunters we find looking for him is astonishing. Most are so close to freezing to death, we just let them. You’re the first one we’ve successfully saved in years.”

Tommy sighed, touching Mars’ third antler. This beautiful creature chose him, and he would have to kill him.

  
  



End file.
